


Extra Hot, Extra Cream

by ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: After care, Alternate Universe – Modern Day, Anal Sex, And A Bit More Daddy Kink, Biting, Bleeding, Blindfolds, Bondage, Boys Are Getting Kinky, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Fluffy After Care, Hand Jobs, He Loves Lance Really, M/M, Marking, More Bondage, More biting, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Shiro is a little mean, Smut, Space Dad In The Streets, Space Daddy In The Sheets, Spanking, Teasing, baby kink, blowjob, more daddy kink, ropes, shance, slight subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon/pseuds/ididntdoit_blameitonthedragon
Summary: Lance and Shiro have some kinky sex in the bedroom.That’s it. It’s literally just sex. And ropes.





	Extra Hot, Extra Cream

Lance sits bare on the end of the bed, leant back slightly as Shiro trails lips up his inner thigh, turning between both, smiling at the involuntary shudder the trembles in his legs. He has his eyes closed, just intent on feeling those soft lips, guessing where they will touch next. He hums to the suckling on his inner thigh, gasping when teeth nip playfully. 

“You’re just adorable,” Shiro hums, finding new skin to mouth. His hands are rubbing over Lance’s ankles, up and down, but when Shiro moves to kiss Lance’s half-hard erection, he’s not really paying attention to the foot massage. 

“You,” Shiro says, breathless, layering kiss over kiss around the boy’s dick, underneath and around his puckering holes, “are beautiful.” Lance preens, arching his back, blushing from the compliment. “You look so fucking delicious,” Shiro mouths, a telling tongue tracing the underside of Lance’s now-fully hard dick. “I could eat you all up.” Lance rolls his hips, widening his legs. He whimpers, mind breaking from the imagined touches he wants around his self. 

Suddenly Shiro is all tongue and Lance throws hands to his hair as the man decides he’s going to be quick about it. “Shiro, Shiro I’m—” Lance starts, his tone desperate. However Shiro takes the boy right to the hilt, giving his throat and experimental swallow, the muscles around Lance’s dick contracting and loosening, melting his words into a content sigh.   
But Lance isn’t content for long, gasping when a cold, lube-slicked finger prodded at his twitching hole. It’s just the one though, _deliberately just the one,_ and Lance whines neededly for a second at least, or deeper. Just _more._

Shiro is savouring the taste of Lance. The faint scent of sweat, the lighter hints of raspberry from his scented-body wash.   
The slight hint of Shiro hangs about him too, and he prides himself of the familiarity, as if he’s marked his mate from any that want this gorgeous, delectable morsel. 

Shiro rubs his cheek on Lance’s erection, delighted at the way his breath hitches. Puckering kisses bless the underside, a finger still delving in and out, treating Lance like he’s a virgin in its hesitant exploration of Lance’s perfect little arse Shiro is sure he knows every little secret about. 

Keeping his eyes fixed upon Lance’s expression of almost-bliss, he removes his finger, letting his hands trail up and down Lance’s thighs. He feels, underneath the lightly placed palms, the muscles tense and shudders. An experimental dig of fingers pull another hitching gasp, Shiro humming as he nuzzles Lance’s dick again.   
“Daddy,” Lance whines, wanting more than just the teasing. “Sssh baby, daddy’s just admiring you. You’re adorable, friggin dazzling. I can’t believe you’re mine.”   
“I’m yours?”  
“All mine,” Shiro hums, smiling as his tongue laps up the dribbling pre-come.   
Lance is always undone by his words, all the little pets, the cute little praises and compliments just as soft and sweet as their lazy morning kisses. 

Shiro adds a second finger.   
Lance arches his back then, a moan loud in the quiet room, positively shaking as his own thoughts play their part in winding him up further. The probing movements are slow, the fingers firmly tight to one another, no scissoring motions to loosen the boy as Shiro continues to mouth the head of his dick.   
“Daddy, I feel empty,” Lance pleads, staring down at him with his gaze lidded, yet hope remains in shining eyes. His mouth is softly parted, his breathes heavier than usual, hips rutting down as he tries to fuck himself on Shiro’s hand. “Daddy fill me up inside.” 

Shiro hums happily at that, not even bothering to suppress just how fucking smug he is as he leans in, taking one of Lance’s balls between his lips. He doesn’t often play with them like this, but he’s glad he’s done it now when Lance makes a pitched noise somewhere between shock and delight. One hand thumbs the underside of his cock while Shiro continues to lave his balls, taking one and then the other into his mouth. 

Lance’s fingers twist in Shiro’s fringe, his legs shaking.   
Shiro rubs soothing circles on Lance’s thighs, touch feather-light as he hooks fingers around the boy’s ankles, guiding them up and open, allowing him more access to the dripping cock that wants Shiro’s mouth as much as Shiro’s mouth wants that cock. 

Lance ruts down on Shiro’s two fingers before the man can remove them, begging Daddy for more again, but Shiro is insistent on taking things slow. He nuzzles the fair hair at the hilt of Lance’s dick, kissing along his hip bone, up to his navel. A seal of lips and an invasive tongue; Shiro listens to the moans with a smile.   
He’s slower than he’d like to be, and about a million times slower than Lance would definitely like, but teasing Lance like this is far too much fun. 

“Don’t come,” Shiro orders, breathless, licking his lips at the sight of the feast before him. Lance watches, eyes wide at the command. “Don’t come without me,” Shiro repeats, reaching up to cup Lance’s chin, stroking a thumb on the little scar under his lip. “Can you do that? Do that for Daddy?” Lance nods once. “Yes.” 

Shiro follows the light trail of kitten-soft hair leading back down to his raging hard-on, stopping every now and again to mouth unexplored skin, lapping at the sweat that lays like glitter on hot skin. Lance’s stomach jumps when teeth nibble playfully, sharp but loving bites leaving crescent moon shapes in wonderful weaving patterns over his gorgeous bronze skin. 

The boy’s cock stands tall and proud, bobbing with the gentle ruts Shiro gives as he returns two fingers to Lance’s hole. “Another,” Lance begs, and Shiro allows him the pleasure of a third finger; a thumb pressing the skin between entrance and balls. Lance gasped at the pressure, his body shooting up suddenly, but a hand on his abdomen forces him back to the bed. Lance doesn’t fight the silent order to remain where he was. 

Shiro pulls back to marvel again, committing the sight to memory; listening to Lance’s arousal. He could watch him forever, but that’s not fair for Lance who is beginning for touches right now.   
So Shiro moves in, moving back to the cock, prodding his slit with a tongue to clean up the pre-come, laying kisses along the length. In tandem to Lance’s needy moans, he speeds up the trusting of his fingers, beginning to open the boy up, slow still, but now there’s more friction and Lance is feeling more.   
He’s not being loud anymore, in fact he’s hardly making a sound other than the oh-so-quiet little gasps and tiny whines when Shiro kisses him. 

The man feels his brow narrowing, lifting himself from Lance’s member with a question on his lips. But as he looks up and sees Lance watching him intently, his lips caught between his teeth. A flicker of confusion on both ends before Shiro speeds up his fingers _again,_ and this time he gets the cry of pleasure he wants to hear.   
“Sing for Daddy,” Shiro whispers huskily, not needing to raise his voice in the quiet. “I want to hear you, I want you to tell me just how much you love me when I do this. I want to hear the sounds you make. I want to know how much you enjoy this,” he says, the words ghosting over Lance’s dick, to which his _entire body_ shudders in anticipation. 

“Daddy, suck me, I love it when you taste me, when you loosen me up with your fingers,” Lance says, thrusting his hips down to get Shiro deeper inside him.   
He’s so fucking hot Shiro wants to devour him there and then. Lance looks desperate for it as well, and that alone is doing wonders for Shiro's own sex drive. Not that he needs help with it when Lance is involved, but the boy just has a way with pulling desire deep from inside the man.   
_And yeah, actually, he wants to see Lance like that in real life, not just his fantasies. He should probably hurry up._

Shiro returns to licking Lance’s dick, from base to tip revelling in the stuttered gasps that the boy makes. He wants more noises, and knows the best way to get them.   
Shiro takes Lance in his mouth, sliding past wet lips, over his tongue and keeps going. He keeps going until his lips press right up against Lance’s tufts, the boy’s dick snug in his throat. 

He swallows once. 

Lance’s long dexterous fingers snarl painfully tight in Shiro’s fringe, holding him immovably still as a pleasured cry breaks free from pinched lips. He comes right down Shiro’s throat, calling out “Daddy” as he does, eyes tearing from the _everything_ he feels.   
_“Oh fuck... Daddy I can’t…_ I don’t— oh shit... oh, _oh... every goddamn time,”_ Lance gasps out, his breath catching as his entire body rides out the orgasm. 

Shiro can feel Lance’s racing pulse against his tongue, feel just how fast his heart his pumping in his body from the high of release. He’s limp, cock still sheathed in Shiro’s throat, but the man’s not going to release him just yet.   
_The funs just started._

Two hands reach up to the fingers in Shiro’s hair, unwinding Lance’s fingers from his locks and in between his digits to allow himself to move. Slow, methodically movements bring Lance up to half hard in a matter of minutes, and by the time he’s fully erect and leaking into Shiro’s throat, he’s a mewling whimpering mess, begging for more.   
Shiro swallows again, the muscles of his throat moving around Lance, listening to the keening. Lance can’t stop himself from rutting up, practically fucking Shiro’s throat. Shiro is quick to hold him down with two hands, drawing back for much needed air.  
Lance smiles down at him, blissfully relaxed, until Shiro speaks. 

“You came.” 

Lance’s smile vanished, eyes wide, lips parted. “I forgot Daddy,” he said quickly, voice hitching to the breath of air Shiro blows on the his dick. “Sorry, sorry Daddy, I’ll be good,” Lance whimpers, body twitching as he fights the instinctual rut when Shiro takes him in his mouth again. 

“I’m sorry Daddy, I’ll be good, I’ll listen, I won’t come again till Daddy says so,” Lance weeps, eyes wet still, his whole body shaking. Shiro cocks an eyebrow, making a little “oh” noise in his throat, seeing as he can’t talk with Lance’s dick still sat on his tongue. _Oh dear, did that just make his throat vibrate? The throat and mouth that Lance is currently occupying?  
Oh dear, how very unintended. _

Lance is moaning again, ripping fingers away from Shiro’s hands in favour of snagging his own locks, pulling tight. It looks like it hurts, and the man wants to reach out and stop him, eyeing the way the fingers are quick to abandon his hair, instead reaching for the cute pucker nubs of his nipples, still erect from where Shiro had been biting and licking them earlier.   
It’s hot. _Unbelievably_ hot. 

Shiro hums again, pulling Lance from inside him before he can come again. He rubs his thumb on the underside of Lance's dick and lets the tip of his tongue map out the underside of Lance’s pretty cock.   
He takes him again; not all the way like he did before, something a little safer that isn't likely to make Lance lose it right away. “Daddy, god… more daddy, let me come again,” Lance babbles, pinching his nipples as Shiro scissors open his hole, readying him for his own entry.   
“Hmm?” Shiro hums curiously, letting the noise run through Lance. The boy chokes on his words, stomach muscles clenching as Shiro brings him to the edge again, then all at once, there is distance again as Shiro pulls back and stands up. 

Lance watched, body lucid and not quite following the other’s motions. His head was heavy, focus on the fact Shiro had stopped before he came for a second time. Now he’s kneeling over him, holding the boy’s arms, trailing kisses, nibbles and little suckling touches as he had done to his legs. There’s something on the edge of consciousness, barely aware Shiro is holding his feet and wrists at the same time. _Huh? That makes no sense._  
He doesn’t say anything, reverting to trying little begs. “Daddy I want to come, please let me come Daddy,” he said, repeating the phrase, changing it up now and again. 

“But you already came,” Shiro reminds him, making no move to allow the boy release. Lance whimpers at the denial, apologising again, begging for touches, saying it hurts in a rush of excuses. But nothing he says draws Shiro’s attention to the budding tip of his dick; leaking pre-come that dribbles down to mix with the saliva that Shiro had left there. “Please Daddy, let me come.” 

Shiro stops Lance as he claims his lips, but then he’s moving up, wrists guiding Lance’s up above his head, pinning them there with a length of rope that has remained permanently tied to the mattress slats since the second time Shiro decided Lance needed his hands bound. 

Lance looks up lazily, eyes widening to the sight of leather braces encircling his wrists. He hadn’t seen Shiro put them on him, nor thought that man would. They’d briefly talked about an easier way than just the tie --- Shiro feeling guilty over the marks it made last time, and the braces were easy. The ones on the wrist Lance had worn before. The ones he hadn’t were the ones around his ankles.   
“What are you up to Daddy?” Lance asked with a half smile, watching Shiro ties the black rope through the little metal hooks on the braces. He didn’t answer, so much as smile, before slipping off the bed again, coming to stand at the foot of the bed to marvel his boyfriends strapped up and tied down. He didn’t restrain Lance’s feet though, that was for later. 

The freedom lets Lance pull his knees up, planting his feet on the sheets, thighs wide and open to give Shiro the perfect view as he stands there, mind running wild.   
“Come on Daddy, fuck me.”  
“Do you deserve it?” Shiro asks, standing at the base of the bed. He’s torturing himself, keeping himself away from the banquet that is begging to be feasted upon, but teasing Lance is fun too. “I’ll be good,” Lance says again, shaking his hips, trying to make himself even more delectable.

The mattress dips as Shiro climbs closer, straddling Lance with a knee pinned on either side of his torso, careful to keep his weight raised up off of him.   
For a long moment, Shiro does nothing but stare down at Lance. His eyes take in everything he can, sweeping up and down, mouth moving but no sound released as he marvels Lance’s body; bare and waiting for him like a sacrifice to the gods. 

Shiro’s fingers twitch like he can’t decide where he wants to touch first. He keeps them resting on his knees while he plans his approach, denying Lance any touch. Only his heavy gaze caresses the length of Lance’s body, pausing in certain spots: the ghost of a curve at his hip, the soft skin of his belly and the dusty pink colour of his nipples. The way his arms give an occasional twitch from above his head, not used to the angle their pulled at. 

Meanwhile, Shiro’s cock is hard where it’s curving up from his groin, pressed flat to his abdomen, slightly intimidating as it hovers over Lance’s midriff. It’s close, and impossible not to stare at.   
And Lance wants so badly to reach out and touch it, wrap his fingers around the tip and feel it pulse against his palm, but he can’t. Shiro has bound his arms and it’s Shiro who is in control. He just keeps looking down at Lance, hidden expression behind his admiring eyes.   
Lance feels his cheeks heat, twitching his legs from the intensity of the man’s gaze. “You’re so fucking needy, like a slut,” he whispers. Lance hides his face behind an arm, trying to ignore the embarrassment that fills his cheeks, fuelled by Shiro’s intense gaze. 

The way that Lance angled his face, it opens up his neck, inviting Shiro to taste the skin. He pulls Lance’s earlobe between pinching teeth, dragging lips and sharp teeth down, suckling over the bruised marks on the boy’s shoulder, the ones that are still yet to fade. Some have, remaining only as purplish blemishes on Lance’s otherwise perfect skin. 

_Shiro’s marks.  
Shiro’s claim on this body. _

A growl builds in his chest, muffled by Lance’s cry when teeth sink into flesh, the warmth of the metal tang soaking his tongue, the taste overwhelming. Lance’s breathing hitched, his heart rate speeding up from both pain and pleasure. Shiro could hear it; feel it on his cheek as it pressed against the boy’s neck; his jugular pulsating.   
Shiro didn’t understand why Lance loved it when he marked him like this, but he wasn’t one to complain. The guilt of hurting him was easy to ignore in the heat of things, and he always made a point of never biting sensitive skin, nor biting too deeply. Just enough to break skin and taste blood. Leave the mark and leave his scent on this boy who was his to emblazon. 

The initial bite is masked with loving kitten kisses, little lapping motions to stop the sting that Lance can no longer feel. He’s too aware of his empty ass and his throbbing erection that knocks against Shiro’s as the man hovers over him. Eyes open, looking down, he sees his erection and Shiro’s; just as hard, if not harder.   
_No, definitely harder:_ Lance has already come once, but Shiro has yet to feel release. 

A small, sad sound escapes the boy’s lips, and Shiro quirks his brow; intrigued. He scans Lance’s face before following the path of the boy’s gaze. Shiro bites back a smug when he realises that Lance is eyeing up his throbbing dick.   
_Idea!_

“You like that?” he asked in a breathless whimper, calling for Lance’s eyes on his. With gazes locked, Shiro reaches down to where his and the boy’s cock stand, close to one another. 

The boy watches, helpless, as Shiro ignored his cock, instead enclosing a firm hand around himself. He starts to play with himself, teasing Lance with the motion of sliding a fist over his cock. It’s a slow performance; much like the touches that he’d been teasing Lance with, but now Lance only gets to watching, Shiro isn’t touching him at all. 

The teasing is working. 

Shiro takes his time; _of course he takes his time._ He treats his own cock like he would treat Lance’s when he teases him on the edge of an erection for hours at a time; fingers exploring all the aspects of the six and a half inch penis, stroking easily, enjoying it. He gives himself a squeeze, around the base where he’s the thickest, jutting out from a neat patch of hair. 

Lance is glued to the display like he’s hypnotised, watching as Shiro dips down to cup his balls, rolling them in his palm, making the tip twitch at the touch. He slides back up over the shaft, thumbing at a vein there, letting out these little moans like Lance does, letting his eyes close.   
He tries to imagine this is Lance’s hand, or perhaps his feet like that night in Casanova’s. _Oh god, and afterwards, he fucked him in his car and he was moaning and they were fucking in the car park—_

Shiro groans, shuddering as the memory just _does things_ to him. He’s harder now, a little lost in pleasure to remember he’s teasing Lance with the display. He curls his fist up and starts tugging gently in quick little pumps, just below the head. 

An eye open shows him Lance, pink as his cute little nipples, watching, powerless, his fingers clenching into fists where he’s pulling at the rope on the braces. He wants to touch too, but Shiro has stopped him. 

_Almost._

Lance rolls his hips upwards, bringing his dick up to brush the underside of Shiro’s hand. He stills when Shiro does, bottom lips caught between teeth as he waits for Daddy to admonish him.   
Daddy doesn’t, smirking at the neediness of his baby, wrapping a firm hand around both dicks, keeping them pressed together with long fingers. Shiro’s breathing picks up as he jerks them off together, letting out an occasional grunt that has Lance writhing under him who voices his own needy noises.   
A tell-tale shudder warns Shiro his baby is close, releasing him then.   
_It’s all a part of the game._

“Not yet baby. I’m still punishing you for coming without me.”

Lance’s eyes open wide at the cold air brushing on his dick, no longer enclosed in Shiro’s grasp. He can’t do anything else except watch, listen and salivate as Shiro tugs himself to the edge, right where he wants to be with him. Doing nothing is getting more and more frustrating. 

Shiro touching himself always does _something_ to Lance, but like this, tied up and unable to join in, worse still: been given just the lightest, the barest of touches then denied anything further is a hundred times worse.   
Shiro is teasing him, testing his ability to follow the wordless order of sit back and watch. Lance abides, his eyes trained on each movement of the man’s hand, wishing so much for his own cock to be inside his grasp, to have his hands clawing marks on his back, leaving his own claim, his own collar of ownership to the would-be potential fuck buddies Shiro keeps on the side. 

Laid there, helpless beneath the perfection of a man, Lance soaks up everything he can see; the vein the bulges in his forearm, his bicep flexing whenever he pumps his fist over his cock, slapping wetly back to the skin of his groin.   
The sounds are positively filthy, broken now and again by the soft sounds of gasps from both of them, Shiro’s laboured breathing where he’s keeping himself on the edge and the odd occasional groan when eyes slip closed and the man is pulled into fantasies and memories of the night in the car park. 

Lance is dying for some kind of attention. His cock, still hard and leaking, stands neglected. It’s aching to be back in Shiro’s mouth again, his ass equally aching for something to penetrate deep inside him, pound into him mercilessly. 

Shiro begins to slow, his chest flushed and glistening with sweat. He opens his eyes, lifting his head to find Lance’s gaze, but the boy remains transfixed on the motion of the man’s hand. He rubs his thumb in a little circle over the tip, coaxing, swirling circles in the trail of pre-come that collects there, wet and shining like elixir as it dribbles down his thumb. 

Lance actually mewls for it, desperate, his arms struggling fitfully against his restraints. He doesn’t care how needy he sounds, Shiro likes it when he makes noise, so he’s always made a point of making more than what is simply drawn from him when the man plunges deep inside. But he’s not plunging into him now, making a mess of him on the mattress, he’s simply jerking himself off and not letting Lance play too. 

“Daddy, daddy please,” he begs, clinging to the rope that won’t budge, not caring for anything other than the desire coiling inside him because _he wants to have Shiro in his mouth. He wants his cock; he wants to taste, to suck it, drain it of all that perfect elixir Shiro._  
Shiro eyes him, hand stilling on his cock. “Daddy let me have a taste, I want a taste,” he breaths, looking up to the man who holds himself above him, puppy-dog eyes pleading for just a taste. 

Shiro bring up his thumb, barely close enough to the boy’s mouth before Lance sticks out his tongue and laps it up, laving every inch of it, treating it like it’s the dick he desperately wants to suck.   
Shiro is watching him with an unreadable expression, but Lance isn’t done. Shiro was teasing him with the display, but now it’s his turn, head bobbing, tongue licking kisses all up the small but thick girth of the human-thumb. He’s barely started on his seductive performance when Shiro withdraws his thumb. He scoots closer, raised on his knees, holding his cock around the base, guiding himself forward until the tip rest’s in the space above Lance’s wide open, begging mouth. The corners are wet, slick with saliva and the pre-come the drips from cock-head to panting lips. 

“You’ll make me feel good too, yeah baby?” Shiro says, his metal hand cupping the boy’s chin, loving strokes of his fingers playing on the soft, warm skin there.   
Lance is quick to accept his gift, tongue darting out for cure little kitten licks to bless the head of Shiro’s slick wet cock. He’s held himself in the air enough that Lance can’t get him in his mouth just yet, but he’s not going to, he’s going to tease Shiro into coming just like the man did to him. 

Shiro hisses out a breath when Lance drags a tongue down his dick, following the one singular vein right to his neatly cropped patch of hair. It’s coarser than his own, the feeling tickling his nose as he puts pressure against the base. Shiro’s shoulders sag at the feeling, arms trembling where he’s keeping himself from flopping down on Lance who is happily wriggling his tongue up and down the man’s length. He traces over his slit, kissing in between licks, lapping up the pre-come there tasting the taste that is intrinsically Shiro.   
“Daddy,” Lance sighs, pleased when even more dribbles out, his cock getting impossible wet with saliva and seed. His own cock trembles, but the notion is ignored in favour of licking Shiro clean. 

Shiro still wears that indiscernible expression, nudging himself forward, dipping the tip of his cock head inside Lance’s pliant, open mouth.   
Lance hums appreciatively, closing his lips tight around him, forming a seal over the warm throbbing skin, his eyes falling closed as he starts to suck amidst little licks straight on Shiro’s leaking slit. 

“Fuck, baby,” Shiro whispers through gritted teeth, swaying forward on juddering legs. He manages to catch himself on the headboard, panting hard at the sensation of Lance around him. He’d been around Lance earlier, and loved him inside him, but there was something about the way Lance smiled up at him, silently thanking him for a taste of daddy’s cock.   
He hums appreciation, Shiro throwing his head back because “ _god baby that’s good, so good.”_ Lance’s skin glows at that, knowing he’s making him feel good, sucking on his cock like this.

With the way the boy’s arms are restrained, he can only manage to rise up slightly from the mattress, bobbing his head in little motions as he keep his lips tight around Shiro’s cock. He lays heavy his tongue, his mouth making wet little slurping noises as he sucks, a steady flow of wet dribbling down his throat.   
Lance hums for a moment, pitching his head forward as Shiro’s cock sits further back. His throat convulses slightly, Shiro groaning at the sensation. Lance’s eyes water, but he’s not gagging. He can’t breathe now, but that’s okay, he knows he can take the man deeper, although hard considering his position. 

Lance pulls back, forcing breaths steady, knowing if Shiro thinks Lance is forcing himself, he won’t let him suck him off anymore tonight.   
Breaths controlled, the notion of readying himself in more tasting licks to the underside of the man’s shaft before taking him in his mouth again, tongue rolling side to side as he impales his throat with Shiro’s dick. 

Shiro manages to keep his hips still, all want leaking out of him in generous beads of pre-come, twisted groans he keeps quiet behind tight lips.   
He resists the impulse to rut forward and fuck Lance’s cute little whore mouth. He wants more though, and following the swallowing sensation of Lance leading him into his mouth, he leans in slowly, careful not to gag him.   
“Good boy,” Shiro murmurs down to Lance, brushing a thumb behind his ear, moving to his chin to guide him up, giving himself easier leverage to. “Take it all in, baby, just like that.” Lance moans for him. He suckles and slurps, flattening his tongue to lap at the underside, rewarded with more seed that leaks out, bittersweet. 

A stronger urge from his throat pulls Shiro in deeper, and Lance is forced to fight it when his body tells him no. 

He pulls back to catch his breath, pressing needy kisses all over Shiro’s head to hide the fact his throat is scratchy and he wants to cough, but no. “Baby—” Shiro begins, but the word finishes with a _“hng”_ when Lance takes him again this time, right to the hilt, nose buries in scratchy black hair. It hurts, he can’t breathe but by god he’s going to love Shiro that way Shiro loves him.   
He swallows once, twice, _thrice_ and suddenly the cock is gone, in Shiro’s grasp as his grip stops his release before he could come. “Fuck,” Shiro whispers, eyes closed, body shaking. One hand still holds the headboard, his entire body shaking with the need to come but he denies himself, as he denied Lance. 

_“Daddy more,”_ Lance begs, shooting up from the bed to lick what he can get at. Shiro doesn’t deny him this time, letting Lance’s tongue dig messily into the slit for whatever treat he missed. "God Baby, you’re going to make me come,” Shiro moans, to which Lance hums lovingly; doubling his efforts. He thinks over everything he enjoys and plays it out in front of him, no longer trying to force himself to take Shiro full. His throat hurts, and gagging on someone’s dick is a little rude.   
So he laps at the underside, the tip, light kisses and tight presses wherever he can, tasting him, hungering for more. 

Lance is addicted to every sound, every moan, every tiny hitch of breath Shiro makes at his touches, taking each one like praise, each one a little reward, a green light in the right direction as he drags Shiro to the edge. _He wants to make him come._  
But he only gets in a few more slurps before Shiro suddenly pulls back, his cockhead slipping out of Lance’s mouth with a slick pop. Lance gapes up at him, confused and out of breath, his lips wet.

“Not yet baby,” Shiro says softly, thumb coming up to catch the dribble of saliva from the corner of his mouth. “I want to come when I’m in you.”   
Lance preens at that, hole twitching desperately to be filled. The ache he had been ignoring is back, his body writhing for the feeling of being full. “Then hurry up Daddy. I want you to come inside me too.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shiro’s eyes rake over the breathtaking beautiful sight that sits before his eyes. He feels a little disjointed from reality, not sure if he’s dreaming; heart racing, palms sweaty, breath rough and uneven. If only Lance knew just what he did to Shiro… 

The man admires his handiwork again; taking another step back from the bed so he can see the stunning body in perfect detail.   
Lance is laid on his back, knees in the air, splayed slightly from where the rope the binds calf to thigh restricts his movements. Thick ropes wrap around his body, binding his legs, circling around and back again to make cute little diamonds, one over his navel, another between the first and his chest, stopping at a knot that sit firmly in the dip of his clavicle.   
Two ropes loop either of his neck, secured with a knot on his back that sits at the tip of his spine; fastened solidly with several lengths that run to his sides, looping around his upper arm in two separate places. Lance’s wrist remain snug in leather braces, the black rope looped through the wooden slats pulled tighter so his arms are pulled straight above his head. 

The knots and loops are all perfect, each placed deliberately and neatly; winding over Lance’s thighs and his groin, not tight enough to hurt. One pretty black length runs around the girth at the hilt of his dick, held in place by six other holds, pulling it outward. There is slight pressure there, but no tension to get the boy off, nor is their resistance to stop the boy coming when he needs to. 

Lance’s searching gaze is locked firmly behind a blindfold. It was the first knot tied, allowing Shiro to bring out his laptop and follow the online instructions, rather than trying to remember and probably screwing it up.   
_The end result was well worth it._

Against Lance's tan skin, the black ropes and leather straps are perfect. Shiro could happily sit back and admire his work for the rest of his life, but at the same time, there is nothing more that he wants than to ravage the boy beneath his knots. 

Lance is breathing deeply; light shivers wracking his body from anticipation, something Shiro is dragging out. More teasing, and it’s almost like he’s teasing himself with this wonderfully wrapped Christmas gift, right here, waiting for him.   
Those perfect lips are parted with his heavy panting, sweat sheens on his forehead although it’s still slightly cold. The boy looks absolutely delectable and Shiro’s mouth is watering. 

Without a sound, he lowers himself onto the bed, lightly skimming his fingers up the back of Lance's thighs, not bothering to avoid the ropes crossing the tanned skin. Lance shivers, his toes curling and another soft breathy moan leaving those lips.   
Shiro’s fingers make their way to his erection, listening to the sounds of the boy’s hitching pants grow even heavier. "You look so perfect like this," he murmurs, dipping down to kiss the skin of his inner thighs, suckling over the red of a fading hickey. His hands twitch, desperate to touch, to _feel,_ Lance equally ready if his moans are anything to go by.   
The kisses continue, up the thigh, not ignoring the ropes that restrict both of their movements. Shiro skims over Lance’s dick, just the tip of his tongue teasing the slit, causing another shiver to wrack through the boy’s body. His hands skim up Lance’s sides as he settles behind him. 

“So fucking perfect,” Shiro hums, leaning in to kiss Lance’s belly, watching it jump under his touch. He doesn’t hide his amused snicker, feeling the body beneath roaming fingers convulse as he keeps teasing him. He ruts his hips up into Shiro’s hand, a needy plea escaping his lips. "Please daddy..." The way the man’s name rolls off his tongue, full of lust and need is all he needs to spur him onward. 

Shiro curls his fingers around the rope harness on Lance hips, a hefty handful in each palm before pulling him roughly into Shiro’s lap. The restraints pull his arms tighter above his head and Lance cries out. “Please, please Daddy!”   
"Please what? What do you want me to do to you baby?" Shiro asks, reaching up, fingers at the knots that keep hands still. Lance only seems half aware his hands have been freed; his arms remaining where they lay on the pillow. Shiro releases the knot in favour of running his hands down the boy’s lightly toned stomach, close to the throbbing of his dick that lays heavy on his stomach. 

Shiro traces the thin length of rope that circles the base of his shaft and Lance moans into the pillows. "Please fuck me," he begs, shaking his hips to emphasise he’s bursting for release. "I want Daddy’s cock in me, please…. Daddy I want to be fucked,” he pleads, babbling inconsistently, begging to be marked, to be claimed, for Shiro to fuck him deep.   
His desperate need to have Shiro inside him gets the man even more excited, he can’t explain what it is when listening to Lance call out to him like that, but god he fucking loves it.

Lance has brought so much out of Shiro. He had never thought himself one for all this kinky shit, and although he still preferred classic vanilla and plenty of cuddling and fluff; it was a privilege to be able to see Lance like this, a privilege to be called Daddy, to listen to the lusty cries when he slammed the boy deep, when it almost got too much and the boy slipped to another reality… 

_It is a privilege._

“Come on baby, I’ve got one more gift for you,” he said, scooping Lance up in his arms, leading him to his weight frame in the corner of the room….

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lance shivers in the darkness, straining to hear for Shiro; unable to see him for the blindfold that covers his eyes. It does its job well, too well for Lance’s liking. He wants to see. He wants to know where Shiro is and what he’s planning, but the ideas that run in his mind and the fact that he _doesn’t_ know are doing fucking wonders to his still-hard, ready-to-burst dick. 

Lance remains standing; hands held aloft in the air, listening. Waiting. Anticipating Shiro’s next move.   
Despite not knowing where the man is, Lance can still feel his gaze on him. He can feel it; ghostly touches roaming over each fading bite mark, all the hickies he’s left, his glistening skin that remains blushed with goose bumps from the chill in the air. 

He’s bare and open, standing with his arms raised like a man calling for surrender. Lance will surrender to Shiro’s touches, he already had, but he wants Shiro to touch him, feel him, fill him up and fuck him till he can’t move. Lance feels his mind wander, the sensation of _everything_ still numbing the edge of his mind as fantasies take spotlight in the waiting. He’s not sure if he can feel Shiro’s breath on his skin, but just imagining it has him rock hard, knees quaking under the tightness of the ropes that restrict his movements.   
Excitement alights his entire body, his subconsciously dragging upwards in the empty air, trying to find friction. With nothing but the chill of a silence December night, Lance can’t catch the whine that bubbles up from the pit of his stomach, desperate for release. 

“Are you already this far gone?” 

Lance’s body tense up at the sound of Shiro’s deep velvet voice murmuring words right in front of him. He can feel the phantom caress of his breath on the sheen of his forehead, the boy leaning his head back, begging to be kissed.   
Shiro doesn’t close the distance between them. “I’ve hardly touched you since tying you up and you’re practically dripping all over the place.” A light touch nudges Lance’s erection. He whimpers when the fingers are removed, hips shaking, shoulders already aching from where they’re being held above his head. His wrists hurt from the weight of tension between gravity and the rope that keeps his hands up in the air, away from his weeping erection and emptiness that is still begging for Shiro to fill him. 

“Shiro—”   
“No,” Shiro says, a hand on the boy’s chin, thumb in, pulling at the corner of his lips to silence the word. “It’s not Shiro is it?” Lance bobs his head. “Daddy,” he breaths, kissing the hand that touches him. It’s gone too soon, tapping the rope that cages Lance’s body, pulling on it in places until the tightness bites at him. He’s gasping, panting, out of breath. Lance’s knees are weak where he’s being made to stand, his shoulders hurt from the heaviness of his arms. 

“Daddy, daddy please.”   
“What do you want me to do?”   
“Touch me.” Lance’s reply is breathless, his hips rutting forward to the sound of Shiro’s deep chuckle. “Touch you where?”   
“My dick. My ass. Anywhere Daddy, please… _please touch me.”_  
“Anywhere?” 

Shiro hums. His voice is closer now, his breath no longer on Lance’s forehead but over his chest. A hand reaches out to the bar-like taut rope that criss-crosses like diamonds, finger pausing on the knot that sits above the clavicle. Lance hums as the finger trails down, another joining before suddenly his nipples are caught between pinching fingers.   
Lance’s breath hitches in his throat, caught before he can cry out. Then the fingers are gone. “Was that enough?”   
“No.”   
“No? No that was enough, no, _you don’t want anymore?”_ Lance gasps as the words paint over his skin, quick to correct Shiro. “More, Daddy I want more.”   
“Hmm, good boy,” Shiro hums, about to move in, but Lance is speaking again, quick, head tilted back. “My cock Daddy, touch my cock.” He hears the rumbling laughter before Shiro seals his lips on the boy’s neck. 

“As baby wishes.” 

He runs a finger down Lance’s throbbing length, peppering kisses on the skin beneath his mouth as he does. Lance feels his cheeks heat up as heavy bead of pre-come spills from the head. “Why thank you,” Shiro whispers, capturing the leak in his hand, smearing it down Lance’s length as he gives him several experimental tugs. Lance strains at the ropes, leaning back, hips forward into Shiro’s hand as he works him harder, stroking the lengths with long, torturous slides of a gently cupped hand.   
“Tighter,” Lance pleads, fucking Shiro’s hand again with another thrust of his hips. Upon Lance’s request, Shiro’s grip tightens. “Is this what you want? You want me to keep touching you like this? Just you, fucking my hand?”   
“No, no Daddy! I want you in me!”   
“Oh, you want me?”   
“Yes Daddy I want you, I want your cock deep inside of me, I want to come when you come, inside, filling me up.” Shiro says nothing, but Lance can practically hear him smirking, loving the way that he’s dominated Lance, body and mind. Lance squirmed, feeling the gaze on his body again; suddenly not-so-confident with how he’s shamefully shagging Shiro’s hand. 

“What is it?” Shiro asks. He’s moved away again, standing back to admire his work of art. “Do you feel exposed? Don’t you like it how you’re displaying yourself in front of me, acting like _my little slut.”_  
Lance’s eyes widen under his blindfold, whimpering at the words that heat his cheeks and wet his eyes. He hadn’t even realized that he had been trying to shut his legs, knees pinned together no matter how hard it was to stand there, arms pulled up higher as he tries to hide the shame; erect from thoughts, words and light touches.   
He bites his lip, attempting to cover up his embarrassment and the fact that the filthy name calling has him silently begging for more.   
“Uh oh Baby, that won’t do,” Shiro tuts, the sound of feet moving. 

Suddenly something smacks him across his cheek. Lance jerked at the touch, mouth wide at the unexpected sensation, shocked at the sudden turn from pleasure to pain. 

Breathless and watering eyes, Lance lost himself for a moment, chest constricting at the slight sting that remained from a heavy hand upon his cheek. But so did Shiro’s hand, fingers trailing like water droplets, making their own path across his skin.   
A few more gentle caresses and then the hand was removed, only to return in a light, full claiming slap across his quivering buttocks. It wasn't meant to hurt, the sting only a fraction more powerful than the first. Lance closed his eyes. 

It wasn't long before the strikes began to increase in their intensity, although each time there was brief respite where Shiro would caress the skin, pressing touches up and down the slowly reddening skin. He would soothe him with the touches, offering comfort from the light stings, but not to the ache of want that pooled behind Lance’s still-standing erection. Lance rolled his lip between nipping teeth, biting back each moan that swelled within him.   
To each of Shiro’s careful questions and probing dirty talk, Lance would utter back the word “again,” curling the word into a breathy moan, preening the first time he said “ _harder”_ and Shiro had choked back a surprised noise. Lance urged Shiro faster, harder, _more,_ until it wasn’t long when Shiro upped his game. 

After a brief distance between them, Lance once more felt pressure against the supple of his ass. “This one might sting a little, so let me know if it hurts too much and we’ll stop,” Shiro warned, stroking his hand up and down, following the line that parted each cheek from the other. 

The warning fell on deaf ears as Lance remained somewhere else. He’d been denied release for a while now, the lightly biting of the rope increased when he strains at them from the spankings. He can hear Shiro talking, thinking he wants affirmation for something or other, not quite sure what the man means, although his hand does feel slightly cooler than before.   
It’s not something he’s paying too much attention too, head, albeit fuzzy, favours attention of his cock that continues to twitch; hung thick and erect between his legs, dripping eagerly from the few light touches from Shiro’s fingers. It was a new experience; his body respond to little strikes of pain, but it wasn’t like he was complaining as Shiro pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He wanted relief on his dick, noting the rope that hugged the hilt of his girth, but no amount of thrusting would give him the tension he wanted to make himself come. 

“Daddy,” Lance urged, hoping to get some of the friction off his ass and around his cock. 

Suddenly, his hand came back down over Lance’s ass, perfectly capturing his right cheek with a wicked crack, the smack echoing throughout the small bedroom and nearly lost under Lance's forced cry. He choked on the noise, not quite sure why the feeling had changed.   
The second strike came. It wasn’t the flesh of Shiro’s hand, neither the metal of his prosthetic.   
This felt different. And it _hurt._

It was a totally brand new sensation that rocked him to his core; just when he thought the sting couldn't get any stronger, it did. The bite, beginning to dull on his right cheek was mirrored with glaring clarity as the leather struck him. 

“How’s that baby,” Shiro hummed, kneeling down to lick the sting.   
“Good,” Lance choked out, feeling his knees quiver again, the strength fading fast as his mind slipped to the pleasure of being spanked. The crack of the leather sent skittering jolts of pain across his bare ass and deep to his gut, the feelings of each crack much like the thrust of Shiro’s hips, feeling the man penetrate deep inside of him without actually being inside of him.   
While he tested his tolerance for pain, his ability to ward off the need to orgasm was diminishing as quickly as the strength of his legs that kept him standing, arms tied above to the frame of Shiro’s gym equipment. 

“Baby?”  
“M’ good,” Lance sighed, leaning into and arm, letting his shoulders and rope bear the weight of his body, knees slipping. 

Shiro stood abruptly. Lance heard and felt him move, gasping when a tight arm hooked under his thigh, hoisting him up, guiding legs to lock around Shiro’s abdomen. “Careful,” he said, a supporting arm on the base of the boy’s spine, just above the sting of the spanking. Lance made the sound of coming, surprised by even himself; hips canting up to the pain, the pleasure, the feeling of Shiro there, supporting him. 

“Fuck, you’re horny,” Shiro breathes, holding Lance there, two invasive fingers slick with come invading the puckering hole. Lance keens to the sensation, throwing his head back at the pressure of sensitive skin and the fulfilment of the ache that he’s been begging to have filled since the start. Now Shiro obliges.   
Scissoring fingers work him open, the teasing game abandoned as Shiro forces a third, then a fourth finger to the scraping motion that delves deep inside Lance. He’s forced back against the bite of rope, the scratching just that much more feeling igniting his skin in sparks of electricity. 

“So good,” Shiro groans, leaning closer to lay crescent scars over the top of the hickey marks, crooking his fingers in just the right way. Lance cries out, his cock quivering at the closeness to the edge he is. It’s what Lance wants, but then, not enough. He doesn’t want to be fucked by Shiro’s hand, pulling in and out of him in quick little thrusts. He wants deep plundering digs, he wants Shiro to drive into him, melt him from the inside with their heat combined, too hot to handle, too much to focus on everything.   
He wants his mind numb, he wants to be gone. He wants Shiro to fuck him into oblivion and be left in euphoria. 

Lance clutches at Shiro’s shoulders, tipping his head back, eyes closed, mouth open. Shiro kisses his neck and pumps his fingers in and out of Lance’ tight hole in rapid succession, feeling the ring of muscle relax, letting him invade further.   
“Come on, Daddy, I’m ready.”  
“Just let me—”

“Fuck me,” Lance growls, a command more than a request and Shiro can’t say no.

Lance digs his fingers into Shiro’s back when Shiro finally, _finally_ lines up cock head to puckering hole. There’s barely a moment to breathe before Shiro drops Lance onto his dick, the boy screaming as he falls right to the hilt.   
Shiro is fucking him deeper than he ever has before, the weight and gravity pulling him down onto that thick hard rod that leaks his seed inside Lance’s thirsty hole. “More, more,” he pants, clawing lines onto whatever skin he can get at. 

Shiro pulls back, not out, but back, suddenly slamming back in with a heavy thrust of his hips that rips scrams from Lance’s drooling lips.   
“Like this?”  
“Yeah,” Lance pants. “Just like that. _Daddy, god daddy, I_ —” He chokes on whatever he was going to say, screaming Shiro’s name as the man pulled back, slammed in, back, in, again and again. 

And Lance is rock hard and just trying as hard as he can to pull Shiro deeper.   
His voice cracks on a moan, all words lost to the noise of making love, stirring up lust into heat and a burning fire that will never be put out. He rides Shiro like he rides music on a dance floor; high on the feeling of the bass that resonates through their bodies, the bright lights of bliss blinding him to all and everything but Shiro inside him, Shiro’s arms around him, Shiro’s lips on his neck, chest, mouth.   
Shiro.   
Shiro, Shiro, Shiro, Shiro.   
Everything is utterly, irrefutably, intrinsically _Shiro._

The two slot together like puzzle pieces, hands gliding over whatever skin the man can get at, Lance’s clawing forward, ignoring the pull of the ropes that suspend him above Shiro’s glorious cock that pounds him again and again, _again and again._  
Shiro doesn’t stop. He’s making all these noises like growls and huffs against Lance’s throat, kissing and biting everything he can reach, laving his chest with his tongue, lapping up Lance’s load with dirty slutty noises that just… just… _oh fucking god._

Shiro grunts, changing trajectory before he’s slamming into Lance with these needy little moans the boy paints down his shoulder, trying to find purchase on the man’s back, fighting the hold of the ropes that still bind upper arm and wrists. “Daddy, daddy hold me,” he repeats over and over, mind somewhere between here and nowhere as the _everything_ he feel blinds him, deafens him and drowns him in so much want he’s gasping for more than just oxygen. 

Shiro knows the moment he his Lance’s prostate: his body arches up, mouth dropping open soundless. He’s beyond talking, beyond words, beyond noise, just focused on _feeling._ Shiro keeps going, aiming for the boy’s sweet spot over and over, until Lance is writhing above him. A slip of the man’s grip and Lance drops. Still suspended by ropes on his wrists, he remains impaled, now Shiro so deep inside him Lance feels like the man is going to break him in half.   
He can if that’s what he wants.   
If Shiro asks it, Lance will give it, _god he’ll give it willing,_ he just wants more. “Shiro, Shiro—” he gasps, over and over, keening to the sounds of Shiro calling his own name as they drag themselves closer and closer to the summit. 

Shiro begins to slow, deliberately, dragging out this moment, dragging out the heat, the lust, the hardness for precious more seconds when there’s only him and Lance in this world and _god he’s so much in fucking love with this kid look what he turns the man into._

“I want you,” Lance breaths against his ear, the material of the blindfold sliding against sweaty skin. Shiro can’t think as he rams himself forward again, the words Lance says lost to their lewd noises. A slight bend of the knees, a readjustment and it feels like Lance is riding him, hands on chest to keep him from falling over although he’s perfectly safe in the rope harness.   
Shiro’s watching his face, imagining eyes closed behind the blindfold, scrunched up in bliss. _He wants to see._

With one hand, Shiro reaches up, fingers tugging on the cord of the blindfold. It won’t come undone, but it comes down, the black material laying around his neck, freeing up that beautiful face. Shiro kisses him. He’s kissed back. They’re kissing together, teeth clashing in the desperation, biting one another trying to get closer, _closer still because it’s not enough, god it’s not enough there’s so much more they want!_

 _“Lance,”_ Shiro rasps at the shell of his ear, “ _Lance,”_ and it’s that.   
That fucking sound, the sound of Shiro’s voice, desperate and needy, dripping in so much want Lance is drowning already. It’s the sound of his voice saying _his name_ like that, all rough and growling and utterly blissful that sends the boy over the edge. 

Lance’s entire body shook, legs weak, shoulders aching, but it was a good ache and he barely registered, when suddenly Shiro grabbed his ass and all that sensitive skin. It was too much and Lance was coming, spilling his load messily across his stomach, up, his seed catching his own cheek, dripping down his chin. 

Lance didn’t care. He was coming.   
Shiro is coming too. 

When Shiro comes he bites into the flesh of Lance’s neck and holds him tight. It was that moment, _there in that moment,_ when Shiro held Lance, one arm supporting his back as he held him; somewhere between Lance screaming in pleasure and Shiro holding him tight as he rides out another orgasm where Lance’s brain just…   
The white light of pleasure around the edges of his lack-of-vision filled his mind, the sounds of his own wanton lust muffled, like he lay under warm water, without needing to breathe. His body’s still buzzing with pleasure, Shiro’s sporadic thrusts still pulling little shocks through him. He’s on fire, he’s burning up but he’s calm and cool too. Lance feels shocked with electricity when he tries to lift his head and lets it fall back to where it was, hanging limp in the air, partially listening to someone softly calling to him. 

_Someone is calling him._

“Lance, baby.” Shiro sighs into the boy’s shoulder, pulling back. “Hey baby, I’m right here,” Shiro hums softly, pulling Lance into his arms, letting his head rest in the crook of Shiro’s neck.   
The man feels light fluttering breaths against his skin as his hands find the clips to the braces, the knot of the harness, unwinding the confines, pulling Lance from where he had been tied to his weight frame. 

“Lance can you hear me?” The boy made a little noise in the back of his throat, much like a purr, but nothing else. It had Shiro smiling as he carried Lance back to the bed.   
Lance doesn’t move as Shiro unwinds the rope in soft tugging motions, the fluid black snake releasing its prey to the soft touches of Shiro’s loving palms, sliding up and down his skin. 

Lance can feel the touches, but it means nothing to his conscious, unlatched from reality as he floats between here and nowhere, a bed of clouds and a breeze so soft it tickles his skin. There’s a sudden light, but Lance doesn’t even have the energy to shy away from the abruptness, staring upwards in odd fascination.   
He remained laid, boneless, eyes glazed, barely able to note the throbbing throughout his entire body and the blissfully mindlessness that hung in the room like morning dew. Everything was surreal; sharp and soft all at once and not at all. He was here and he was nowhere, he was and he wasn’t all at once it made perfect sense. And yet, it didn’t. 

He just _was._  
And was was good. 

It’s slow, but Lance begins to drift back to a level of understanding.   
He becomes aware of a voice caressing his conscious; the words honey on his skin as he bathes in their praise. “Hey,” they call him, a smile on lips belonging to a man that Lance can’t help but smile up at; hypnotised. Shiro’s hand cards soothing thought he strands of his fringe, the muffled sounds echoed in the distance. 

More minutes pass and the words become discernible. “Lance, how are you feeling?”   
“I’m…. I’m…” Lance tired to speak, but the words were thick and foreign on his tongue. _“I feel like I’m floating.”_  
“That’s good,” Shiro crooned gently, his hand moving over Lance’s body fondly, wiping his shoulders with warmth that clings to his skin. “Just relax baby, you’re fine, I’ve got you.” 

“You’ve got me.”   
“That’s it, I’ve got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is also Chapter Fourteen from my other fic ‘Cat Got More Than Your Tongue?’ but can be read alone as smut   
> If you enjoyed this, and you fancied checking it out, it has more sex and smut, like car sex and semi-public sex. There’s plot too.


End file.
